Do You Feel Like A Young God?
3:02 am.

You were violently beautiful, a splatter of blood. You painted me red with everything you had, kept me captivated with the glisten of your knife. You were a hurricane, a flawless disaster. You saw what you want and took it, and you wanted me. You were the color spectrum,   an assortment of different flavors and textures. You were everything. Your smoke was a sky, you were my religion. I breathed fire when I was with you. Slowly dripping, you became less. You stepped off the pedestal I put you on and turned your back to me. Your smile was rusty and your lungs were always filled with dope. The colors slowly faded, your eyes slowly closed. Your cold hands no longer longed for me, and conversations were brisk and short. Your red turned to black and you lived in shades of grey. No longer a hurricane, you fell from the sky. No longer a God, you lost yourself. Devoid of color, I never saw you again.